Hand Check
by madame.alexandra
Summary: Han's bored at a formal dinner - and Leia's main concern is; where are his hands? {the answer is under the table}. H/L - post ROTJ, smut.


_a/n: the question is, will i ever write actual intercourse?_

* * *

 ** _Hand Check_**

* * *

Han's inability to comport himself with grace and finesse at formal functions was legendary. It was well known to her and it was part of why she loved him – being with him meant no protocol, and no standing on artificial ceremony.

It was also why she rarely requested he be present at high end events – save them both a headache – and why she was unsurprised when he had already started slouching and losing control of his expression halfway through the first speech at Mon Mothma's inauguration.

This celebration was monumental, it was important; it would be a political and personal statement if he wasn't by her side, and so she ordered him to put on a suit, escort her, behave like a gentleman, and if he got bored, find a way to distract himself and look alert.

Complete scoundrel that he was, he took that last directive to an unprecedented, and entirely inappropriate level – in that during the third paragraph of Garm Bel Iblis' rousing, conciliatory speech about the future and Mon Mothma's responsibility as new Chief of State, Han's hand wandered around under the raised table they were seated at and found its way onto her thigh.

That initial move wasn't necessarily verboten – or unwelcome – and Leia flicked a nonchalant glance at him before turning back to listen to the speaker. She thought nothing of it, until the hand brazenly inched up the material of her glitzy, silky gown up, baring her knees, and then boldly slipped between her legs.

His fingers brushed against the hem of her lingerie at the apex of her thighs, and she jolted her chair forward abruptly, forcing herself closer to the table to make sure the table cloth covered what was going on. The scraping noise echoed, and a few people glanced at her.

She held her composed expression, and after a moment, turned her head, catching his eye menacingly.

 _No,_ she thought, _don't you dare._

He moved his chair just slightly towards her for a better angle, and looked away with a shit-eating smirk on his face. He hooked his fingers into her panties and held them aside, pressing his thumb against her.

With his other hand, he picked up the pint glass of fine Corellian ale in front of his plate, and looked at the audience.

Leia parted her lips, her mind going completely blank for a few seconds – she was so caught off guard, so completely blindsided by the audacity – and no amount of debutante training was going to tell her how to handle this, because in all her dignified lady lessons no one had thought to instruct her on what to do when her lover decided to –

There was a smattering of applause for something Iblis said, and Leia was grateful for it, because Han twisted his thumb in a light, teasing gesture that caused her to jerk her knee and bang it hard against the underside of the table.

Despite the noise cover, Dodonna and Rieekan, both seated near her, turned and gave her looks, and on the other side of Han, Luke leaned forward with a worried expression.

Leia feigned a small smile and lifted her wine glass, burying her face in it for a moment. Han moved his hand again and she almost inhaled the whole glass, saving herself from choking only by starting to cough inelegantly.

Dodonna rested his hand on her shoulder.

"Princess," he said quietly. "Are you alright?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed, through tight lips, setting her glass down with a surprisingly steady hand. She twitched her shoulder edgily to shake of Dodonna's shoulder - the very last thing she needed was the General's hand on her shoulder while Han had his fingers -

She put her elbow on the table and tired to focus on Iblis, but Han was really – he was _really_ – she turned her head sharply to the side, hoping it wasn't too noticeable, and gave him the iciest look she could muster – she was the entire planet of Hoth, glaring at him – and he just met her eyes innocently.

Leia tried to shift away from him – no, his fingers caught her, and she had to bite back a gasp; she pressed her legs together to try and still his movements – no, even worse idea – she bent forward at the waist and put her forehead in her hand, actually giving in to a shiver.

"Ke-eh-st," she swore – she thought it was extremely quiet, but evidently both Generals heard her.

"Princess Leia?" Rieekan asked, his voice low.

Leia sensed more people were looking at her now – she gave a cursory glance through her fingers and noticed Mon Mothma herself, in a place of honor, looking over with veiled curiosity.

"Princess?" Dodonna asked.

"I'm," she began, with no idea what she was going to say – and she didn't finish, anyway, because she was afraid if she tried to talk her voice would come out in that husky, breathy sort of moan Han usually elicited.

In a rush of adrenaline that begged her to save some face, she decided it would be best if she pretended she was crying – and Han was torturing her slowly enough that tears were not entirely difficult to summon.

"I'm just so happy the Empire's gone," she choked out, managing to sound overcome with tears.

Dodonna exchanged a perturbed glance with Rieekan – the Princess, publicly crying over…because she was happy?

Han leaned over, putting up a show of concern. He reached around and moved closer, resting his free hand on her shoulder, giving him a prime angle to finish her off.

"You okay, Sweetheart?" he asked, his face the picture of worry, his voice full of asinine, mocking, smug –

She leaned forward and put her head on his shoulder, managing to get a look at Luke's seriously worried expressing before she buried her face in his shirt. He rested his arm around her shoulders. Han ran his knuckles over her with just the right pressure and she bit him – hard.

But, at least she was quiet.

"How strong is this wine?" she heard Dodonna asked Rieekan warily, obviously completely baffled at Leia's uncharacteristically emotional behavior.

Leia was quick to lift her head, forcing herself to breathe normally when she was completely out of breath. She made a show of patting Han's arm affectionately, but dug her nail hard into his shirt until it hooked into the flesh underneath – warning him - _I will kill you, Solo._

She straightened, turning the face the front, felt Han's hand twisting in her gown for a moment, then his fingers running lazily over her thigh before he settled it back in its proper place and leaned back, picking up his ale again.

She touched her palm to her flushed face, staring straight ahead, her heart slamming into her ribs. She refused to make eye contact with him through the rest of the speech – she refused to look to her left and see the Generals, to her right and see Luke, her expression was taut, obscuring the mortification – and slight thrill – that was raging through her blood.

When Iblis' speech ended, and Mon Mothma approached the stage to a standing ovation and cheers of triumph, Leia held her hand in a vice-like grip on Han's shoulder before he could stand up, pinning him down in his seat so she could lean down and put her lips close to his ear.

She kept a pleasant smile on her face, so to all who were watching it looked as if she were saying something kind, or perhaps romantic, but in a steely voice, she whispered harshly –

 _"Don't you ever do that again."_

Shrugging her hand off and standing up, he put the offending fingers to his lips, and blew her a kiss.

* * *

 _bad han. baaaaad!_

 _-alexandra_

 _story #329_


End file.
